


i know, you know (that i'm not telling the truth)

by imposterhuman



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Psych Fusion, Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship, Bucky Barnes-centric, Detective Bucky Barnes, Detective Steve Rogers, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fluff, Gen, Genius Tony Stark, Hijinks & Shenanigans, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, M/M, Murder Mystery, Past Sunset Bain/Tony Stark - Freeform, Past Tony Stark/Tiberius Stone, Rhodey is So Done, Tony Being Tony, Tony Stark-centric, psychic tony stark, winteriron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 21:38:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18484870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imposterhuman/pseuds/imposterhuman
Summary: psychic tony stark is called to work a routine case with detective bucky barnes; only, he seems to be more connected to the case than anyone thoughtor, a psych au!!





	i know, you know (that i'm not telling the truth)

**Author's Note:**

> gah this took FOREVER and ended up way longer than i expected
> 
> but i did promise id do one, so here goes!!
> 
> enjoy!!! fun fact- the working title for this one was "how many times can i misspell psychic before google gives up on me"

“Aren’t you going to welcome us to the murder?” Tony asked Bucky as he ducked under the crime scene tape with Rhodey at his side. “It’s just rude not to.”

 

“You weren’t exactly invited, Stark,” Steve pointed out from next to Bucky before his partner could snark back. “How did you even know to come here?”

 

_ The police radio in my car.  _ “Psychic, remember?” Tony tapped a finger to his temple. “And I’m getting some really strong vibes from this whole area. Almost overwhelming, really. Should I share?”

 

“Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you, Tones?” Rhodey grumbled quietly, just low enough so that no one but Tony could hear him. It was an art form, really, that he had perfected in the years they had been friends and co conspirators.

 

“Go ahead, Tony,” Bucky said with long-suffering fondness. “What’s your psychic sense telling you now?”

 

“Well, he was murdered,” Tony said, smiling at Bucky’s snort of amusement. He scanned the body closer. “He went to the beach before his death, but not to swim,” there was sand on his shoes, but no salt residue. There was some sand in his hair, too, enough that… “He was probably killed at the beach. I’m also getting a jilted lover aura,” he had the callus and tan for a wedding ring, but there was none on his hand. “Not an amicable parting. I don’t think it’s related, but you should look into that. ID will be in his back pocket, left side,” the man was clearly left handed and Tony could see the bump of a wallet in his pocket. “Get his name and prove me right.”

 

Bucky nodded approvingly as Steve took out the ID. “Good work, Tony,” he praised. He had taken the longest to come around to the whole psychic thing. Probably, as Tony cursed daily, because he was wickedly smart and Tony was a complete liar.

 

“Our vic is one Tiberius Stone,” Steve announced, holding up the wallet. 

 

“Fuck,” Tony hissed. “That slimeball? Not to speak ill of the dead or anything, but he’s a dick.”

 

“How come you didn’t recognize him, Tones?” Rhodey said, intent on being a little shit.

 

“My talents lie in spiritual recognition, not physical,” he sniffed primly. “Plus, he’s facedown, and a lot of people have the same douchebag haircut.”

 

Steve looked utterly scandalized as Bucky laughed out loud.

 

“Sure, Tony,” he said, ruffling Tony’s hair gently. “Maybe you just need glasses.”

 

“I do not!” Tony squawked indignantly. “You’re a terrible detective if you think so.”

 

“You’d look cute in glasses,” Bucky said, booping him lightly on the nose.

 

Tony’s brain slid to a screeching halt. He was sure he blushed terribly as he tried to stutter out more information. “Um, I’m getting a shady businessman vibe, too,” he said. He knew Stone; it wasn’t a stretch to assume that he fucked the wrong person over. “I’d bet a client killed him.”

 

“Not the ex?” asked Bucky, poking around the body some more.

 

“The whole crime feels impersonal,” Tony explained. “If it was the ex, wouldn’t there be more passion to it?”

 

“Not if she was killing him to go have an illicit affair with the stable boy,” Rhodey piped up. “Or she was a contracted assassin who was sent to honeypot him and got bored.”

 

“Thank you, Rhodey,” Tony smacked his friend on the shoulder. “You’re fired, by the way.”

 

“Has Chief Fury even added you on this case yet?” Steve crossed his arms. 

 

Tony put his fingers to his temple and scrunched his eyes shut. “He will,” he said confidently. “So really, why waste time kicking me out now?”

 

“So that’s a no,” Steve looked unimpressed.

 

Bucky sighed. “I’ll walk you out.”

 

“Ugh!” Tony groaned. “I’m going to be back in five minutes, what’s the point in making me leave?”

 

“Protocol,” Bucky said with a shrug. “Technically, you’re a civilian trespassing on a crime scene. You’re lucky Stevie likes you enough to not report it.”

 

Tony sighed. “I’ll swing by your desk to pick up the file as soon as Fury approves,” he conceded. He could pick his battles like a mature adult, and anyone who said otherwise was lying.

 

“You could just go to the Academy,” Bucky suggested for the hundredth time. 

 

“I’ve been saying that since he first decided to consult,” Rhodey complained. “Nobody takes a psychic consultant seriously. Adding  _ detective  _ would make it sound cooler, at least.”

 

“Whose side are you on?” said Tony. “Besides, it isn’t  _ you  _ they don’t take seriously.”

 

Rhodey raised his eyebrows. “Dude, I’m literally the sidekick to the lamest superhero in the world. Trust me, no one’s taking me seriously.”

 

“Bucky, darling, what’s the jail time for murder, again?” Tony said sweetly. “I may be planning one.”

 

“You can’t say that to me!” Bucky laughed. “I’m, like, duty bound to report you, right?”

 

Tony shrugged. “That’s definitely one of those fake laws.”

 

“I’m positive I don’t want to know what other laws you think are fake.”

 

“Only the boring ones,” Tony said with a grin. “Traffic laws, mostly. Speed limits are really just guidelines.”

 

“And that’s why no one lets you drive,” Bucky teased affectionately, ruffling a hand through Tony’s curls. 

 

“Steve lets me drive!”

 

“No, he doesn’t.”

 

“No, I don’t!” Steve called form over near the body. “Bucky, stop flirting and come do your job!”

 

Bucky blushed. “Fuck you, Stevie!” he hollered. 

 

“That’s Tony’s job!”

 

“Uh... “ Tony stuttered, desperately trying to appear unaffected. “I should- Fury… um, shit. Bye?”

 

Tony didn’t think he was imagining the relief in the detective’s eyes when he and Rhodey beat a hasty retreat. He pretended it didn’t make his heart clench uncomfortably; he was good at that.

 

\---

 

“So,” Tony clapped his hands, drawing Rhodey’s attention to the case file in front of them. Fury had added them to the case with minimal grumbling. “Someone kills Stone. Who has motive?”

 

“Everyone?” Rhodey said, spinning in his chair. “I mean, the guy was a real piece of work. Hell, even  _ you  _ have motive.”

 

“Do I have an alibi?” Tony blinked owlishly, trying to remember where he had been the night before. “Follow-up, does DUM-E count as a witness to said alibi?”

 

“You were home all night,” Rhodey confirmed. “We watched Sharknado in the lab, you fell asleep on the couch. I took pictures of you drooling and sent them to everyone I know.”

 

“I don’t know whether to fight you or thank you,” said Tony. “It really isn’t every day that you have to find an alibi for your arch enemy’s murder.”

 

“Find the killer, then we won’t need your alibi,” Rhodey suggested.

 

Tony tuned back to the file. “Times like this, I really wish I were psychic,” he muttered, willing the information to turn into something sensible. “On the plus side, I was right about everything. Did the ex-wife have an alibi?”

 

Rhodey scanned the page. “Says here that Sunset Bain, the ex, didn’t pick up her phone and wasn't at the house,” he read. “She’s the prime suspect.”

 

“Want to go find her?” Tony grinned, a hint of wheedling in his voice.

 

“We’re going to get murdered,” Rhodey said casually, pulling on his jacket. “We’re going to get murdered, all because of you and your dumb ideas.”

 

“If it’s any reassurance-”

 

“It won’t be, but go on.”

 

“-she probably didn’t do it,” Tony said. 

 

“How do you figure that?” Rhodey asked. 

 

“Easy,” Tony said with a smirk. “Stone was shot. Sunset Bain would definitely use her bare hands.”

 

“And how do you know  _ her _ ?”

 

“Friends in low places,” Tony shook his head. “And high society. Same difference, really.”

 

Rhodey groaned. “You’re going to get us murdered,” he repeated. “Let’s go.”

 

“Can I drive?” Tony asked hopefully as they left their office. 

 

“Last time I let you drive, you crashed my baby,” Rhodey pointed out, grabbing the keys from his pocket.

 

“I fixed her!” Tony tried to defend, but even he could see he wasn’t going to win.

 

“You were the reason she needed fixing,” Rhodey reminded him. “Because you  _ crashed her _ .”

 

“Minorly. And for good reason!”

 

“You’re never driving again.”

 

“Aw, platypus,” Tony gave Rhodey his best doe eyes. “Steve lets me drive.”

 

“You stole his car,” Rhodey slid into the driver’s seat. Tony, grumbling, took the passenger’s. “It doesn’t exactly count. Now, use your psychic powers and tell me where we’re headed.”

 

Tony made a show of putting his fingers to his temple. “Not her house, they tried that,” he thought out loud. “If you were a socialite accused of murder, where would you hide?”

 

“An unregistered yacht in international waters,” Rhodey answered promptly, like he had thought about it a lot. 

 

“Rhodey…” Tony asked carefully. “Are you planning a murder?”

 

Rhodey just looked at him. “Unregistered yacht,” he repeated. “International waters. They’d never get me.”

 

A memory was tickling the back of Tony’s mind. He reached for it, and… “That’s it,” he announced. “The Bains own a boat, several if I’m remembering correctly. We should check the harbor.”

 

Rhodey shifted the car into gear and they sped towards the bay.

 

\---

 

Bucky was staring at the spot where Sunset Bain’s boat was supposed to be floating, cursing loudly. He had hoped he’d be able to find the woman there, since she hadn’t been at her home. Of course, he had no such luck.

 

“-it was one time, Rhodey!” he heard Tony’s voice coming up the dock. “Let it go!”

 

“Some genius,” Rhodes scoffed. “Seventeen isn’t the same as one. Did you fail math?”

 

“I was at the top of my class, which included you, Sour Patch.”

 

Bucky felt a smile involuntarily cross his face. Working with Tony was always fun, even if he was a little wary of the whole  _ psychic  _ aspect. 

 

“Hey, guys,” he greeted, walking towards the pair. “What brings you here?”

 

“Psychic intuition,” Tony answered smoothly, wiggling his eyebrows. “Let me guess, Bain’s boat is gone?”

 

Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It was my only lead,” he admitted. 

 

Tony grinned. “No, it wasn’t,” he said breezily. “Because on the way here, I had a vision. Check out Stone’s finances. I saw a laundry machine. Make of that what you will.”

 

“Fine,” Bucky grumbled. As much as he hated to admit it, Tony’s visions were always spot on, if a little bizarre. “I’ll call Steve and ask him to look into it.”

 

Bucky dialed the number while Tony smirked victoriously at him. “Finances, laundry machine,” he said as soon as Steve picked up. “What have you got for me?”

 

“Money laundering, both from our vic and the ex ,” Steve answered promptly. “I was about to call you.”

 

“Did you call Tony first?” Bucky asked hopefully, crossing his fingers. Tony rolled his eyes at him and tapped his temple significantly. 

 

Steve groaned. “Nope. Let me guess, he had a  _ vision _ ?”

 

“Fuckin’ psychics,” Bucky commiserated. “Call me when you know more.”

 

“Will do, Buck. Say hello to your boyfriend for me,” Steve was a little shit, really. 

 

“He’s not my- and he hung up,” Bucky sighed, slipping his phone back into his pocket. 

 

“Trouble in paradise?” Tony said, casually examining his nails.

 

Bucky shook his head, finding Tony’s pout unfairly adorable. “Nothin’ of the sort, doll,” he drawled. “You know me and Stevie aren’t a thing. That’d be like you and Rhodes.”

 

Rhodes shivered in disgust. “Gross,” he said, pushing Tony, who shoved him back until they both almost fell off the dock.

 

“You’re gross,” Tony said when he had recovered his footing.

 

“No, you are.”

 

“No, you!”

 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I’m headed back to the station, do you want a ride?” he asked, interrupting what he was sure would have been a wonderful fight between two toddlers. 

 

“On you? Anytime,” Tony purred. He made a show of looking him up and down before winking ostentatiously. Bucky blushed fiercely, even though Tony didn’t notice, already back into psychic mode. “We’re fine. Rhodey drove. Besides, I want to check this out a little more, do my thing, you know?”

 

“Uh huh,” Bucky eyed him, but Tony looked sincere. “Well, call me if your weird brain voodoo finds anything.”

 

“Careful,” Tony said. “Or I’ll start thinking you only like me for my  _ brain voodoo _ .”

 

“Aw, doll, you know that isn't true,” Bucky teased, grabbing Tony in a one-armed hug. “I hate that bit the most. It makes no sense!”

 

“I operate on a higher level than you, a mere mortal,” Tony sniffed. “My psychic powers elevate me to a new realm of thinking.”

 

“I call bullshit.”

 

“Tell that to my solve rate!”

 

Bucky flipped him off good-naturedly as he walked away. Yeah, working with Tony was always fun.

 

\---

 

“Come out, Sunset!” Tony called as soon as Bucky was out of earshot. “I know you’re here.”

 

Rhodey stared at him, confused. “I don’t know him,” he assured a passerby who was looking at them weirdly.

 

“Sunset, I swear!”

 

“Tones!” Rhodey grabbed his arm. “You’re making a scene. She isn’t here, Barnes just said so.”

 

Tony shot him an unimpressed look. “Have I ever been wrong?”

 

“Yes. Our last case, when you said that that room was empty. I got shot at.”

 

“Other than that,” Tony pursed his lips.

 

“Case before that,” Rhodey countered. “You got stabbed.”

 

“Lightly, and I wasn’t actually wrong, just stupid in the moment,” said Tony. “So, really, I’ve never been wrong.”

 

“Tony, I  _ just  _ listed several-”

 

“Sunset’s here,” Tony insisted, cutting him off. He held out his phone, where a map of the harbor displayed a blinking dot. “Or, at least, her phone is. She’s never without it, though, so it’s a pretty safe bet.”

 

“Maybe she just ditched her phone here?” Rhodey offered. “It’d throw people off her trail.”

 

“No…” Tony stopped and thought. 

 

_ Where could she be hiding? _

 

Sunset could have been on one of the boats, Tony reasoned. There were plenty floating around, near unattended. Hiding wasn’t Sunset’s style, though. Running, yes, but she rarely hid. Sunset could talk her way out of anything she couldn’t run from (Tony remembered her obfuscations well). She could talk her way out of murder; well, her wallet could.

 

Not to be deterred, Tony started poking around the docks. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, his mind cataloguing and throwing away useless details. 

 

“You look like a crazy person,” hissed Rhodey. “You’re going to get us both arrested!”

 

Tony ignored him. He scanned the docks again, looking for something,  _ anything  _ that he missed. A clump of kelp floating in the shallows caught his eye. It was probably just a plant, but…

 

“Rhodey,” Tony said, not moving his gaze. The more he looked at it, the more it looked like hair. “Call Bucky back. I think we’re going to need him.”

 

Tony heard Rhodey dial and start talking as he moved closer towards what he knew was going to be Sunset’s body.  He didn’t like her- hated her, actually- but two of his old acquaintances being declared dead on the same day left a sour taste in his mouth and an unease he couldn’t shake.

 

“He’ll be here in a minute,” Rhodey said, putting a stabilizing hand on his shoulder. “What do you see?”

 

“Hair, floating,” Tony’s mind was running a mile a minute. “Same shade as Su- as Bain’s. Could be kelp, but I doubt it. The wood is damaged, see? Splintered, like something hit it really hard. Plus, there are stains. I dismissed it as fish blood, but in conjunction with everything else, I’m thinking it isn’t.”

 

“What else?”

 

Tony squeezed his eyes shut to think. “Footprints,” he said finally. “Faint, but they’re tracked in the blood, too. Not work shoes; they’re nice. Bain wouldn’t have gone down without a fight, the broken high heel further up is probably hers. Whoever organized this was sloppy. And it  _ was  _ organized; this isn’t passion. She had no shortage of enemies.”

 

His head felt less crowded when he finished. Tony dragged in a breath, leaning on Rhodey to recover for a moment. 

 

“Where’s Barnes?” Rhodey tapped his leg impatiently with the hand not holding Tony.

 

“Right here,” came Bucky’s voice from behind them. He was looking at Tony, face utterly unreadable. Tony had no idea how much he heard. “What did you need?”

 

Tony pointed to where he knew Sunset’s body would be. “Dead body under the docks.”

 

“How sure are you?” Bucky was in detective mode, visibly cataloguing the scene like Tony did and coming to the same conclusion.

 

“Won’t know til we look, but signs point to  _ very _ .”

 

“This is gross,” Rhodey whispered as Bucky examined the area. He stuck his head out, peeking under the dock. Bucky turned back to them with a small nod.

 

“I hate being right sometimes,” Tony agreed, taking out his phone to text Steve. “What’s the best emoji to inform someone of a murder?”

 

“Knife and a sad face,” said Rhodey. “Maybe two knives to hammer the point home.”

 

“Sent.” Tony’s phone chimed a minute later. “He says, and I quote,  _ emoticons are not appropriate for the situation, Stark.  _ Seriously, is he from the forties or something? Of course, he ended his message with an angry face emoji, so he might just be a troll.”  

 

“He understood it, didn’t he?” Rhodey said. “You’ve never been appropriate a day in your life; he should expect that by now.”

 

“I’m telling him you told me to do it.”

 

“Tony!” Rhodey tried to wrestle the phone away from Tony. “I just got him to stop glaring at me!”

 

Tony snickered, typing with one hand as best he could. “Sucks to be you!”

 

Rhodey glowered as Tony hit  _ send _ .

 

“Um, Tony?” Bucky called from near the body. “Why did you just send Steve a bunch of gibberish and a blurry picture of you fighting Jim?”

 

“Great question,” Tony pursed his lips. “Personally, I blame Rhodey.”

 

“Asshole!”

 

Bucky just shook his head. “You two, I swear.”

 

“We are delightful and your life would be boring as fuck without us,” said Tony, daring Bucky to disagree.

 

“Well, Jim is, at least,” the detective teased.

 

Tony flipped him off. “See if I find bodies for you next time,” he huffed.

 

“I’m not even going to touch that one,” said Bucky with a small laugh. 

 

“Will you two stop it with the flirting?” Rhodey complained loudly. “I don’t need to hear that.”

 

“We aren’t… we’re not...  _ Rhodey! _ ” Tony stuttered out. “Shut up.”

 

Bucky, mercifully, was silent, but he looked a little disappointed. “I should get back,” he said, his playful tone sounding almost hollow. Tony wondered what he did and cursed Rhodey in his head.

 

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said around the growing lump in his throat. “Besides, me and Rhodey have to go, anyway. Fortunes to tell, futures to read, you know how it is.”

 

“Call me if you think of something else,” Bucky said, walking away.

 

“Will do.”

“Sorry,” Rhodey offered lamely when they got back to the car, sensing Tony’s mood shift.

 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” said Tony.

 

“I’ll let you drive if you stop moping,” Rhodey dangled the keys in front of Tony’s face. 

 

Tony snatched the keys before his friend could retract his offer. “No promises.”

 

\---

 

“Another fucking dead end,” Bucky cursed, staring at the information in front of him. None of it was making sense. They had documents showing evidence of money laundering, but the trail disappeared almost immediately. There was no doubt that the vics were dirty, but Bucky couldn’t find the connection between it and their murder.

 

He groaned loudly. He still had some leads, but his gut was telling him that the finances were the key (never mind that Tony seemed to believe it, too; it was his gut, not the cute psychic).

 

“Steve, you got anything on the finances?” he asked hopefully. 

 

Steve shook his head. “No dice,” he said. “I’m looking at other avenues.”

 

“God, I hate this job,” Bucky complained, burying his face in his hands. “So, they’re clearly laundering money. They used different banks and had different revenue sources. They both ran tech companies; could someone have been trying to take out the competition?”

 

“The only other two comparable are Hammer Tech and SI,” said Steve. “SI operates in completely different fields and we haven’t found a connection enough with Hammer to warrant questioning.”

 

“Bank statements?”

 

“Nothing,” Bucky sighed. “Maybe I just haven’t dug deep enough yet.”

 

“Keep looking,” Steve advised. “Trust your gut.”

 

“Tony said it was probably related to their businesses,” Bucky thought out loud. “Clearly wasn’t a crime of passion. Whoever did it was smart, smart enough not to leave traces behind. It was almost professional… Steve?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Could it have been an ordered hit?”

 

“I mean, it’s possible,” said Steve. “But we haven’t found anything that suggests it.”

 

Bucky blew out a long breath. “Fucking dead ends.”

 

Steve nodded sagely. “Keep working.”

 

“Sir, yessir,” Bucky said, throwing himself back into the files. On the screen, everything looked clean, if morally grey. Bain and Stone had no shortage of enemies, but all of them were coming up roses. The money laundering angle was going nowhere. For the first time, Bucky was worried they might not be able to solve the case, not with the dearth of evidence. 

 

“Bucky?” Steve interrupted his musings, not looking away from his computer screen. “Come take a look at this?”

 

Bucky pushed his chair over, sliding up next to Steve. “What’s up with it?”

 

On Steve’s screen was a photo of their two victims with another man. It was clearly a paparazzi photo, the quality not great where it showed the man fighting with Bain and Stone. Nobody in the photo looked happy at all.

 

“Do you recognize him?” Steve pointed to the man, a shorter brunet.

 

Bucky sucked in a breath. “Is that…  _ Tony _ ?”

 

“Sure looks like him,” Steve said. “A couple years younger, but that’s Stark.”

 

“What does the caption say?” Bucky asked.

 

“ _ Trouble in paradise _ ,” Steve read, nose crinkled in distaste. “That’s descriptive.”

 

“It’s dated  _ years  _ ago,” said Bucky, scrolling down the page. “So why wouldn’t he tell us when we ID’d the vics?”

 

“He did, with Stone,” Steve countered. “He said that Stone was a dick. It implies a history; that could be motive.”

 

“You aren’t seriously implying Tony could have done this, are you?” Bucky’s head spun. Steve thought  _ Tony _ , who was sweet and harmless, who fixed every police car in the precinct before updating the computers, who drank too much coffee and ate too many sweets, who always wore mismatched socks, killed two people? It didn’t compute.

 

“You have to admit, Buck, it looks bad.”

 

Bucky’s face flushed with anger. “Half the city probably has a  _ connection  _ to the vics if we’re counting who they took to bed,” he said. “Are they under suspicion, too?”

 

“Half the city doesn’t have gossip rags written about torrid love affairs,” said Steve, reading through one of them. “If it was anyone else, we would have brought them in for questioning already.”

 

“He didn’t do it.”

 

“Your bias is showing,” Steve said, serious in a way he often wasn’t. “Buck, we swore when we took Tony on as a consultant that he wouldn’t get special treatment. He’s not a suspect, but he may have information we need to know. You  _ know  _ that.”

 

Bucky looked utterly mutinous, but he backed down. “Fine,” he grumbled. “But I get to do the interrogation.”

 

“No way in hell; you’re too close to this.”

 

“I can do my damn job, Rogers,” Bucky growled. 

 

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Even if Stark gives you those puppy eyes?” he looked skeptical. “He got you to eat a whole ghost pepper by flashing those.”

 

“It was for science!” Bucky defended. He paused. “You know what, you should do the interrogation.”

 

“There’s not a single science experiment that would explain that.”

 

“Yep.”

 

“You’re whipped.”

 

“Yep.”

 

“I’m doing the questioning.”

 

“Yep.”

 

\---

 

“For the record, please state your name,” Steve droned. He was seated in front of Tony, who had been meticulously hooked up to a lie detector, because Steve was a dick. Tony had been very vocal about that when Steve brought it out.

 

Tony grimaced, looking down at the polygraph. “Is this really necessary?” he tried. “Don’t you trust me?”

 

“Name,” Steve repeated, unimpressed.

 

“Tony,” Tony said with a dramatic sigh. He knew all about passing polygraphs from Howard. The trick was to mess up the control questions, so he purposely thought of something scary to watch his heart rate tick up on the page, just in case he had to lie later. “Anthony Edward Stark, but I only like to be called Anthony in bed.”

 

Steve scrutinized him for a moment, trying to figure if he was joking or not. The readings weren’t far enough off to say he was lying, but they weren’t a stellar example of truth. “Did you know Tiberius Stone?” he said finally, giving up.

 

“Unfortunately.” The polygraph didn’t signal a lie at all. 

 

“How did you know him?”

 

“We went to school together,” Tony shrugged, jostling the wires around him. “We were friends, now we’re not.”

 

“And how did you know Sunset Bain?” Steve pressed.

 

“We were also friends,” he said dully, tapping his fingers against the hard metal of the table. 

 

“Define  _ friends _ .”

 

“Do I look like a dictionary to you?” Tony said waspishly. “We did friendly things, like watch movies and occasionally sleep together.”

 

“Why did you break it off?”

 

Tony winced. Steve was smarter than he looked; he had seen right through Tony’s bluster. It was irritating. “She cheated on me,” he explained. There really was no way to spin it so it sounded better. “With my ex… Ty Stone.”

 

“Repeat that?” Steve demanded, eyebrows furrowed. 

 

“Sunset cheated on me with Ty,” Tony enunciated. 

 

“So you dated both victims?” there was a challenging glint in Steve’s eyes. 

 

Tony nodded. “Years ago,” he defended. “I’m over it.” He was so glad he flubbed the control questions. The lingering intimacy issues were  _ not  _ something he wanted to discuss, especially hooked up to a lie detector.

 

“You sound it,” Steve raised an eyebrow.

 

Tony rolled his eyes dramatically. “Despite your skepticism, the polygraph doesn’t lie,” he pointed out. “Are we done yet?”

 

“No,” Steve said. “Where were you on the night Stone and Bain were killed?”

 

Tony gaped in shock, even though he  _ knew  _ that was where Steve had been gearing up to. “Are you serious?”

 

“Where were you, Stark?”

 

“At home,” Tony said, voice clipped. “Watching movies with Rhodey. I was there all night. Rhodey has pictures.”

 

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Why would he take pictures?” he pushed. “Did he know he’d need proof?”

 

Tony feigned nonchalance. The needle stayed steady on the page. “I drool when I sleep, apparently,” he said. “Pep wanted photos. Are we done here?” He went to pull off the polygraph sensors, but Steve stopped him with a hand on his arm. 

 

“One last question,” he said. 

 

Tony settled back in, putting on his best devil may care smirk. “Hit me.”

 

“Are you really psychic?” Steve said evenly. Tony couldn’t say he hadn’t been expecting it.

 

Tony watched the needle. “Do I have to answer this?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I-”

 

“What the hell is happening?” Fury stormed in, interrupting him (much to Tony’s relief). Bucky was hot on his heels. 

 

“Monkey sex,” Tony said, trying to get Fury’s expression to change. “A murder. Conspiracy to overthrow you and put Barton from the vents in your place. God, do you only have one facial expression?”

 

Fury, predictably, ignored him entirely. “Rogers, I asked you a question.”

 

“Stark has a connection to both victims!” Steve blurted out, like a kid tattling to his teacher.

 

“So does half of the city!” Tony protested. “He hooked me up to a  _ polygraph _ !” So maybe Tony was a bit of a tattletale, too. 

 

“That does seem excessive, Stevie,” Bucky said, frowning slightly. “Why didn’t you just interrogate him the normal way?”

 

“Why interrogate me at all?” Tony threw up his hands. “Seriously, this is bullshit. I didn’t kill Bain  _ or  _ Stone, and I don’t know who did. Satisfied?”

 

Fury surreptitiously looked at the readings; everything held steady. “We’re satisfied,” he said with finality.

 

“He didn't answer my question, though,” Steve said, and Tony wanted to punch him. “Are you really psychic, Tony?”

 

“Fury said we’re done,” Tony said, prying at the wires.

 

Fury held up a hand. “I want to hear this,” he said. “Go on, Stark, answer the question.”

 

Tony turned pleading eyes on Bucky, who just shook his head. “Fine,” he huffed. He took a breath and stared at the needle. “Yes.” The needle remained constant.

 

Steve frowned. “Are you, Anthony Edward Stark, a psychic?”

 

“Yep!” Tony grinned, relishing in the look on Steve’s face (he looked constipated. Fury didn’t look much different, but Bucky was smiling indulgently). “I am a psychic.”

 

“Someone with psychic abilities?”

 

“One hundred percent.”

 

“Who uses extrasensory perception to identify information hidden from the normal senses, particularly involving telepathy or clairvoyance?” Steve was really getting frustrated if he was breaking out the dictionary definition. He had never been sold on the whole  _ psychic  _ gig, but the polygraph was holding gleefully steady.

 

“Obviously,” Tony finished, pulling off the wires. “I’m leaving now.” 

 

“Need me to walk you out, doll?” Bucky asked, offering an arm gallantly. 

 

Tony sniffed, indignant. “Currently, you’re on my shit list by association,” he said, pointedly not looking at Bucky’s biceps. “So, no.”

 

“Aw, c’mon,” Bucky drawled in the accent he  _ knew  _ made Tony’s knees weak, the asshole. “I wasn’t even here for this.”

 

“So you could have plausible deniability,” Tony huffed. “Detectives are terrible and I’m suing all of you.”

 

“I don’t think you can do that,” Bucky followed Tony out of the interrogation room. “Technically.”

 

“I do what I want.”

 

Bucky leaned in a little closer. Tony kind of wanted to kiss him. He refrained, using his famed self-control. Bucky was just being friendly, after all. “Please don’t sue?” he gave his best puppy dog eyes.

 

Tony pretended to consider for a moment. “Only because you bring me the best coffee,” he decided. “Otherwise, I’d sue you for emotional distress. I’d win, too.”

 

“Obviously,” Bucky nodded, faux-serious. “Speaking of coffee, want to go get some? I’m hitting a dead end on this case, I could use a sounding board.”

 

The brief flare of hope was immediately quashed, but Tony was a good enough liar for it not to show. “Sure,” he said, hoping it sounded stronger than it felt. “I’d love to.”

 

Bucky didn’t seem to notice the veiled disappointment, or he ignored it. “Awesome,” he said. “You’re the best.”

 

Even to Tony’s ears, his confidence sounded hollow. “Of course I am, darling.”

 

“And modest, too.”

 

“Only on alternate Tuesdays.”

They continued their banter to the nearest coffee shop. Tony had to keep reminding himself that it wasn’t a date, no matter how much he wished it was. It was harder to remember when Bucky leaned across the table in his excitement and kissed Tony’s cheek, but he managed.

 

\---

 

“Rhodey, what’s your email password?” Tony asked, typing away at his computer.

 

“WARMACHINEROX,” Rhodey said without thinking. “Wait, why?”

 

“Oh, no reason,” Tony said airily, clearly doing something Rhodey would smack him for.

 

“Tony, I swear to god-”

 

“Chill,” said Tony. “I just needed to confirm my registration. Did you know that there’s a Craigslist for hitmen?”

 

Rhodey looked at his friend. He looked at the computer, clearly displaying a gun-for-hire site, with his email open in the background. “You didn’t.”

 

“Don’t worry,” Tony waved a hand. “I didn’t give them your credit card number.”

 

“Why would  _ that  _ be my worry?” Rhodey was turning a concerning shade of red. Tony was considering calling an ambulance. “Oh, god, this is going to be used as evidence when I kill you.”

 

“When?” Tony’s hand inched closer to his phone. “Not if?”

 

“When.”

 

Rhodey launched forward with a war cry. Tony fell over with a manly shriek, trying to get away. He grabbed his phone off the table and ran. 

 

Dialing with one hand, he called Bucky, who picked up on the first ring. “Yeah, babydoll?”

 

“Help, Rhodey’s trying to kill me!” Tony said all in one breath, flushing for more reasons than just the exertion.

 

Behind him, Rhodey shouted, “He deserves it!”

 

“Tony, what did you do?” Bucky asked. 

 

Tony stopped running, letting Rhodey smack into him. “That’s victim blaming,” he said. “I’m innocent!”

 

“He signed me up for Assassins-R-Us!” 

 

“ _ What _ ?”

 

“Relax, you big baby,” Tony said to Rhodey, rolling his eyes. “I promise to annihilate my digital footprint later.”

 

“Tony Stark, what the hell did you do?” Bucky demanded, concern warring with exasperation in his tone. 

 

“Unimportant,” Tony said, ignoring Rhodey’s murderous look. “What matters is what I found out.”

 

Bucky couldn’t help his curiosity, Tony knew. “And what is that?”

 

“Someone called a hit on Bain and Stone.”

 

“And you found this on Assassins-R-Us?” Bucky asked skeptically.

 

Tony sniffed, haughty. “I had a vision,” he said primly. “Then I checked murder Craigslist to see if I was right. Lo and behold, I was.”

 

“Do you have proof?” demanded Bucky. 

 

“Rhodey will send it now,” Tony answered. 

 

“No, I fucking won’t,” Rhodey hissed. “I’m not getting arrested for accidentally hiring a hitman. No. No way.”

 

“Coward,” Tony teased his friend.    
  
“I would not do well in prison, you know this,” said Rhodey. “I barely survived  _ detention _ . They’d eat me alive in prison.”

 

“They would,” Bucky agreed. “On the first day, probably. It would be a bloodbath.”

 

“I’d say nice things at your funeral,” said Tony absently, busy sending all of the relevant data to Bucky. “It would be the perfect mix of classy and trashy, like you.”

 

Rhodey smacked Tony hard. “You dick, stop planning my funeral!”

 

“Stop planning my murder,” Tony countered.

 

“Should I be worried about you two?” said Bucky hesitantly.

 

“Nope,” they chorused in creepy unison.

 

“Just check out the things I’m sending,” Tony said flippantly. 

 

“Will do, darling,” Bucky said, hanging up. 

 

Tony turned to face an angry Rhodey, a sappy grin lingering on his face. “It was for a good cause?” he said weakly.

 

Rhodey smiled pleasantly. “Tony?” he said, stepping closer. “ _ Run _ .”

 

Tony ran.

 

\---

 

“Stevie,” Bucky tilted his head in thought. “To the best of your knowledge, does Justin Hammer have a bird?”

 

“Why the fuck would I know that?”

 

“Language!” Bucky chastised. “He doesn’t seem like a bird guy to me.”

 

Steve sighed, confused and exhausted. “Ask your psychic.”

 

“Good idea,” Bucky said, grabbing his phone. He sent a quick text to Tony, asking the man his question, and went back to work. Hammer’s finances were looking more and more promising.

 

Two minutes later, Tony stormed in, Rhodes on his heels. He looked pissed off, phone in one hand.

 

“Justin Hammer?” he groaned as soon as he saw Bucky. “Seriously? Are we just playing asshole bingo?”

 

“You know him?” Steve asked. “Is there anyone you  _ don’t  _ know?”

 

Tony considered for a second. “Probably not,” he said. “I get around. I think it’s because I’m likeable.”

 

“You piss off ninety three percent of the people you meet within five minutes,” Rhodes chimed in. “I did the math.”

 

“A real social butterfly,” Tony said sagely. “But he can’t be your murderer. He’s, like, four feet tall. No way he could overpower Bain or Stone by himself.”

 

“Tony, he’s five nine,” Bucky looked confused. “He’s literally your height.” 

 

“Yes, but his incompetence makes him shorter,” Tony shrugged. “I don’t make the rules.”

 

Steve shook his head in exasperation. “Why are you yelling about Justin Hammer?”

 

“Because we all should be aware that he’s an idiot,” Tony fired back quickly. “No, Bucky just asked me if he had a bird, and I wanted to make sure Bucky wasn’t having, like, a stroke or something. That’s a bizarre question.”

 

“You would know,” Bucky agreed. “So, does he?”

 

“Why the obsession with his bird?” Steve muttered under his breath. “Why can’t anyone here be normal?”

 

“Heard that,” Tony singsonged. To Bucky, he said, “No, he doesn't. He hates birds, actually. Probably because I filled his dorm with pigeons when we were younger. It was a disaster.”

 

“There were feathers  _ everywhere _ ,” Rhodes said gravely. 

 

“Why would he spend three thousand dollars on bird supplies, then?” Bucky pointed to his computer screen where the bill was.

 

Tony’s face creased in concentration. It was unfairly adorable. “Vision,” he announced, apropos of nothing. “There are feathers. And a gun. It’s a big gun. Quite scary, actually. Less scary when there are feathers on it, but-”

 

“The hitman has a bird,” Steve cut him off, looking vaguely irritated. Tony passing the polygraph with flying colors had pissed him off a little, not that he’d admit it. “So, Hammer ordered the hit?”

 

Bucky scrolled through the information on his computer. “It would make sense,” he said. “There’s other evidence besides the bird thing, of course. But the bird thing ties it together.”

 

“I knew Hammer was a dick,” Tony said proudly.

 

Rhodes elbowed him in the side. “Tony!” he hissed. “Audience!”

 

Tony blushed. “I mean, oh no, murder?”

 

“Do we know the identity of the hitman?” Steve questioned, completely ignoring Tony.

 

Bucky shook his head. “Not yet,” he said. “But it’s only a matter of time. I mean, how many bird enthusiasts are also guns-for-hire?”

 

“Who says he’s an enthusiast?” Tony challenged. “It could just be a hobby.”

 

“Three thousand dollars, doll, that’s what.”

 

Tony rolled his eyes. “To Hammer, that’s pocket change,” he pointed out. 

 

“Fine,” Bucky sighed, giving up. “How many hitmen are also bird hobbyists?”

 

“One,” Steve announced, pulling up a file. “Ivan Vanko.”

 

“That was fast,” Bucky remarked. “How’d you get that?”

 

“Hammer is not very intelligent,” Steve said, sounding faintly amused. “He sent an email to Vanko about a white cockatoo named Irina. I don’t think that’s code for something.”

 

“Psychic senses say that’s Vanko’s bird,” Tony chimed in. 

 

“Thank you, Tony, for that valuable contribution,” Steve deadpanned. “We never would’ve guessed.”

 

“Aw, Steve, still mad at me?” Tony made his most innocent eyes. In Bucky’s professional opinion, he looked like Bambi. “I only told the truth.”

 

Rhodes smacked his friend. “What have I told you about taunting people who can and will shoot you?”

 

“To only do it if Bucky’s there to use as a human shield?” Tony turned his doe eyes on Bucky. “You wouldn’t let Steve shoot me, would you?”

 

Ignoring Steve’s betrayed glare, Bucky nodded. “I’d protect you,” he said, voice a little raw.

 

Tony blinked in surprise, evidently not expecting that. 

 

“Shouldn't we be talking about the actual murderer here?” Rhodes interrupted, ending the moment. “I’m no expert, but y’all are spending a little too much time being sappy and too little catching this guy.”

 

Bucky cleared his throat. “Do you have an address, Steve?”

 

Steve nodded. “Let’s go.”

 

\---

 

Bucky wasn’t sure how Tony and Rhodes got sirens for their absolute monstrosity of a car (it was scratched to hell and upgraded so much, he wasn't sure it was street legal), but they cleared the road pretty effectively, following him and Steve to where Vanko (hopefully) was.

 

He wasn’t sure, exactly,  _ why  _ the psychic and his sidekick were following them to a potentially dangerous situation, both unarmed. He just knew he couldn’t stop Tony if he tried and Rhodes was Tony’s impulse control, following Tony almost everywhere and lecturing him about doing dumb things. It was an exercise in futility, but Bucky could admire Rhodes’s tenacity.

 

Steve drove like a maniac, so they were at Vanko’s house in no time. It looked small and unassuming, not like a Russian assassin lived inside with his bird, but Bucky knew better than to judge on appearances alone. After all, he had thought  _ Tony  _ looked small and unassuming- then he’d been on the receiving end of the man’s anger. 

 

Bucky shifted into detective mode, shoving all thoughts of Tony into a little box in his head. He couldn't afford to be distracted. 

 

One hand went to the gun on his hip; the other signaled for Steve to circle to the back. They were utterly silent, working in tandem for so many years had made it so they didn’t need to talk. He didn’t see Tony or Rhodes; he figured they were doing the sensible thing and waiting at a safe distance.

 

Bucky went to the front door. “Police! Open up!” he shouted. Predictably, the door did not open, so Bucky kicked it down. He definitely didn't imagine Tony’s clapping the first time he saw Bucky do that; no, he was  _ focused _ . 

 

The house was small enough that Bucky figured he wouldn’t be searching for long. There didn’t seem to be a lot of places to hide. The first room he checked was empty, but for the vacant bird cage in the center. It was a very nice cage; Irina was a lucky bird. 

 

He heard Stevens moving around in the back of the house. 

 

“Entryway is clear!” he called to his partner. 

 

“Kitchen is clear!” Steve called back. 

 

Bucky whirled around, hearing what he thought were footsteps behind him. “Position, Steve?”

 

“Going up the stairs,” said Steve, far away from him. 

 

Bucky kept his gun up and ready. His whole body was tense, eyes flicking back and forth. “Get your ass over here,” he hissed, spotting movement out of the corner of his eye. “Hands up!”

 

Predictably, Vanko did  _ not  _ come out with his hands up. Bucky’s only warning was a low screech (he hoped it was the bird) before Vanko was swinging an electric baton at him. 

 

Bucky was just fast enough to get out of the way, but his dodge made him unbalanced in the cluttered hall and sent him sprawling.

 

Vanko loomed above him, six feet of trained killer making itself very clear in his posture. He smiled, teeth chipped and gapped, and raised his baton. The bird, for some inexplicable reason, was on his shoulder. Vanko was silent as he swung. Bucky rolled out of the way, thudding painfully against the wall and grappling for his gun. 

 

“Steve!” he shouted, fingers barely brushing the metal of his firearm before he had to roll again or get electrocuted. 

 

Out of nowhere, a blur came barrelling into Vanko. Bucky took the opening to scramble to his feet, snatching his gun off the ground and holding it tight. 

 

“Thanks, Stevie,” he panted, breathless. 

 

A tap on his shoulder almost had him shooting Steve in the face. “Not me, pal,” he said, glaring at the heap of Tony and Russian assassin on the floor in front of them.

 

Weakly, Tony said, “Not that I’m not enjoying this, but can one of you stop glaring and get this asshole off of me? He’s heavy.”

 

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” Bucky seethed, helping Steve pull an unconscious Vanko off of his idiot psychic. “What the hell are you doing here?”

 

“Disappointing you?” 

 

“Tony.”

 

Tony huffed. “I knew something would go wrong,” he admitted quietly. “Don’t ask me why. Just a hunch, I guess.”

 

“A rousing endorsement of your psychic powers,” Bucky deadpanned, anger fading a little bit.

 

“Shut up,” Tony said, moving to stand. He stopped with a barely-concealed wince.

 

“Easy, doll,” Bucky said, moving to help Tony up. “Where does it hurt?”

 

“My pride. I’m not  _ five _ , Barnes, you don’t have to hold my hand.”

 

“ _ Tony _ .”

 

“I landed wrong on, well, my whole body,” Tony said with a glare. “Happy now?”

 

Bucky shook his head, intimately familiar with Tony’s mercurial moods, especially around perceived weaknesses. “There should be paramedics outside,” he said. “Can you walk?”

 

“Technically,” Tony sighed. “Help me?”

 

Bucky knew it was as close to an apology for snapping as he’d get. Wordlessly, he gently slung the other man’s arm around his shoulder and helped him hobble out the door, where Steve already had loaded Vanko into the back of their police car.

 

There was an ambulance waiting and he passed Tony off to a woman in blue. 

 

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Thank you, Tony,” he said, meeting the psychic’s eyes. “You saved my ass, even if you weren’t supposed to come anywhere near the house.”

 

Tony laughed. “Don’t worry, Rhodey’s already started scolding me. If you listen carefully, you can hear him.”

 

“ _ Anthony Edward Stark, I swear to god!”  _ Rhodes’s voice was alarmingly shrill. 

 

Tony surreptitiously moved Bucky in front of him. Bucky moved more out of fond amusement than anything else; he knew Rhodes wouldn’t be fooled for a second. Bucky did have the tendency to follow Tony around like a besotted puppy (and it seemed everyone but Tony had noticed). 

 

“See, you could solve this problem by  _ not doing dumb things _ ,” Bucky stressed, pressing an ice pack to Tony’s swelling ankle. “Then no one would yell at you.”

 

“But where’s the fun in that?” Tony grinned, unrepentant.

 

“I’m sure you’d figure something out.”

 

The lapsed into comfortable silence while a paramedic patched Tony up, eventually leaving him with a shock blanket that Bucky couldn’t help but to think made him look like a kitten. 

 

“You know,” Tony said after a minute, leaning in close. “My psychic sensing are tingling.”

 

Bucky tipped forward until they were nose to nose. “Oh, yeah?” he asked. “What are they tellin’ you?”

 

“Lots of things, as always,” Tony breathed. “Mostly, though, that there are kisses in my future.”

 

“Is that right?” Bucky smiled as he wound his hands through Tony’s curls. “You getting anything else from that  _ miraculous  _ psychic sense of yours?”

 

Tony blinked owlishly. “I’m here, inviting you to kiss me,” he said incredulously. “And you’re teasing me about my _ gift _ ?” He feigned outrage.

 

“I’ll kiss you anyway,” Bucky smirked, tugging lightly on Tony’s hair and reveling in the way his mouth fell open. “I was just curious.”

 

“Nope,” Tony said, climbing out of the ambulance and shooting Bucky a glare. It was undermined by the flush on his cheeks, but Bucky was kind enough not to mention it (plus, it was adorable). “You ruined the moment, you dick. No kisses for you. I just got a vision of me kicking your ass, so you better run.”

 

Unfortunately, Tony was still unsteady from the adrenaline crash and injuries, so he wobbled as soon as his feet hit the ground, landing gracelessly in Bucky’s arms.

 

“I think  _ I  _ just had a vision, actually,” Bucky teased, bending down until his lips hovered right above Tony’s. “Wanna know what it was?”

 

“Who cares?” Tony said, surging up the rest of the way and catching Bucky’s lips in a kiss. After a few minutes (and a few wolf-whistles from both Steve and Rhodes), they pulled apart, panting. “Fuck psychics.”

 

“Is that an invitation?” Bucky purred. “Or a precognition?”

 

Tony’s smirk was devastating. Bucky was pretty sure he forgot how to breath for a second. “Both.”

 

\---

 

“Can I be a detective yet?” Tony plopped himself down on Fury’s desk, much to the man’s irritation. “I have a higher solve rate than most of the precinct, and that’s saying something. I’m beating  _ Romanov _ .”

 

Fury gritted his teeth and remembered that it was frowned upon to shoot civilians. But, he thought, if the commissioner met Tony, he’d get off scot-free for any  _ accidental  _ discharges of his firearm. 

 

“I’m not making you a detective,” he growled. “And get off my desk!”

 

Tony, playing at obedience, slid into a chair. “Do you have a case for me?” he asked eagerly.

 

“I have a case for you to  _ consult  _ on,” Fury corrected him. 

 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “I’m a consultant. Totally forgot, what with the amount of cases I close for you.”

 

“Go to the damn Academy if you want to be a detective so bad.”

 

“I’m getting a vision,” Tony smirked, knowing exactly what his antics did to Fury’s blood pressure. “Boredom. Overwhelming boredom.”

 

“Then stop complaining about being a consultant,” said Fury, pinching the bridge of his nose and questioning every choice in his life that had led him there. 

 

“So, case?”

 

Fury sighed in exasperation. He was regretting the day he ever thought it would be a good idea to hire a psychic. Really,  _ that  _ was when he started having heart problems. Stupid psychics. 

 

He played with his gun idly. “No one would blame me,” he muttered under his breath. “I’d probably get a medal.”

 

“What was that?” Tony asked. 

 

“Nothing,” Fury said, flipping open the case file and passing it to the psychic to peruse. “Nothing at all.”

**Author's Note:**

> any details about, well, anything are not researched or backed up in any way; all logistical fallacies are my own
> 
> i hope you liked it!!
> 
> comments and kudos mean the world to me :)


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